


Up and Onward

by returntosaturn



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returntosaturn/pseuds/returntosaturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post HTTYD2. There were a lot of maybes. Maybe he'd figure this whole chief thing out, maybe he'd understand this wild woman that was his mother, and maybe everything else would work itself out around all of it. Right? (Full length story, not one-shots)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Through the thin clouds, they could see the finishing touches being put on the statue. Though they were several miles away, on a different dot of land, it was clear enough in the late afternoon to see Stoick The Vast’s great image being surrounded by Nadders, Nightmares, even a familiar Hotburple hovering low at his knees, threading ropes and hooks to erect the statue just off the mainland.

Hiccup bent himself into a sitting position at the edge of a cliff with a groan, setting his forearm against his knee. Despite his newfound duties, he always found time in the day for a flight, and found it much of a necessity these days. Often, he was alone. Sometimes with Astrid. Today, Valka had joined him and was nearby, murmuring something to their dragons who were tutting agreeably. 

He heard her boots crunching through the thin sleet on the grass and glanced up at her as she made to sit beside him.

“Its…” He couldn’t seem to come up with any words that didn’t threaten to tighten his throat and make him queasy all over again. “Flashy,” he decided.

She laughed shortly, but didn’t smile. “He would’ve liked it; it’s an honor. When I was young, they told us that the statues of past chieftains surrounded us to keep the village in peace and from harm. It’s a symbol. But no matter how to the others choose to remember him, he still lives in you, Hiccup.”

Her eyes locked on his. She had this way about her that wouldn’t allow someone to look away without her permission first. She held a gaze, and though her words were few, she always said exactly what she meant.

He watched her for a moment, trying to decipher exactly what depth her eyes—that mirrored his own—could hold. It was always hard to tell. Some things about her were plain: she was bright and affectionate, and wise in ways Hiccup knew he had yet to see, not just with dragons. But she was still very much a mystery. There was a side of her that demanded to remain unknown, and even if Hiccup had known her his whole life, he probably wouldn’t have discovered it.

He had wondered briefly, watching his parents dance, what she had been like before. Exactly how much she had changed and transformed since her years with dragons. He wouldn’t ever know, much like he would never Toothless’s origins or what it was like to have both of his parents at once. But perhaps it was not the beginnings that counted.

He looked away and began to absently gather a small pile of sleet at his feet. It had flurried this morning in the chilly air that surrounded Berk, but it should’ve been the rainy season. 

“I…have been thinking of leaving,” Valka admitted suddenly. He looked to her, but she was looking away now, her eyes dull and locked on the ground. It made him feel worried to think she was having trouble finding her words.

“Not that village hasn’t received me kindly, but…” She sighed and waited several seconds. “Though you’re here, it still isn’t home. It hasn’t been home in…in a lifetime.” 

He watched a hard line of sadness and regret form on her brow.

“Some of the creatures are happy here, and they’ll be welcomed to stay. But I’d take the others with me…”

“So you’ve decided then?” he asked, not meaning to interrupt, and not meaning for his voice to make an abandoned and desperate crack. But it had, and it brought those green eyes upon him again, and her hand to his cheek, reaching far over the expanse between them.

She watched him again, like she was taking in his every feature.

“My son,” she said, soothingly. She had that way about her, and it just puzzled him more. What would she have been like when he was twelve and pushed into the mud, or ten and sat by himself at mealtimes, or fifteen and lying his way to the forest on afternoons to feed a wounded dragon? 

“My boy,” she said again, firm and believing. “I hadn’t ever expected this to happen. I would’ve never guessed I’d see you again. You, and your father…you were gone from me. And know this, that I didn’t stay away because I disliked you or thought there was anything wrong. You are the strength your father saw within you.”

He glanced down but didn’t pull out of her grasp.

“And I’m not leaving now because of any such reason, either,” she said resolutely, leaning away from him and dropping her hand.

“I know,” he confirmed.

“I want to see you marry that pretty girl,” she said, making Hiccup grin and roll his eyes. “And I want to see my grandchildren,” she said expectantly, as if she expected them tomorrow, and he laughed.

“These are things I never thought I’d see or have ever again, Hiccup.” She wasn’t continuing or crafting pretexts. She expected him to understand. It was a statement, so he nodded.

“You can…still see all of those things, Mom,” he said, hoping she understood that he wanted her to visit, not that he was trying to bait her to stay.

And then something unsettling, yet oddly calming, churned in his chest. He’d never called her that. He’d never called her anything except the crazy-feral-dragon-lady, and he wasn’t sure that counted as any sort of compliment. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever say it again, but it was nice for now.

A smile tugged hopefully at the corners of her mouth. “Yes. I can.”

In the chilly air around them, Valka’s eyes on his seemed to warm him.

“Alright,” he said, and then chuckled because it was like he was giving her permission.

They settled into silence, watching the far-off swarm of dragons flying back to land, the statue standing proudly in the distance.

Hiccup sighed and poked at the ground before stealing a glance at her again. She was already leaving, after such a short period of time. He understood why, but something inside him longed for her to stay. 

In reality, she held no responsibility for who he was now. She wasn’t here to watch him feel so shameful and be teased daily by the other kids, by the other adults for that matter. She wasn’t here during quiet nights at the Haddock house when father and son had no conversation to make, when he mostly hid in his room drafting new inventions. She wasn’t here when he was in bed for weeks with a new and strange contraption attached to his missing appendage, and she wasn’t here when his father—finally, since before he could remember—hugged him and held emotion behind it.

And as much as she could hold no accountability for him, he couldn’t find it in him to hold blame against her.

She had missed so much, and they’d never be able to make time catch up with them. But there was something that he wouldn’t let go of, no matter how far away she chose to stay from him. Something as unspoken and as mysterious as a rider’s bond with a dragon. He knew she was, as his father always said, ‘his own.’ He just didn’t know how a missing piece fit into a puzzle that he didn’t know was incomplete in the first place.

She caught his stare. “What is it?”

He glanced away again and shook his head. “Nothing. I just…I feel like we’re so…”

Cloudjumper mirred anxiously behind them, shifting his talons into the ground. Toothless was bounding up behind him from what seemed a great distance; Hiccup hadn’t even heard them wander off.

“Alright, we’re coming,” Valka said, and Cloudjumper’s mane of spikes wriggled in anticipation. 

She rose, whatever Hiccup was going to say forgotten. “Perhaps we’ll be back in time for dinner? Astrid told me she was roasting a lamb at your house.”

Hiccup cringed. “Oh no.” He looped himself into Toothless’s harness. “In that case, let’s take the long way.”

Valka’s laugh echoed upwards, as Cloudjumper’s great wings pulsed. Toothless followed, and the sharp chill of the wind silenced anything Hiccup had been trying to say before. 

At home, the pungent and tangy smell of lamb was pouring down the hillside upon which Hiccup’s house was built, unfortunately unscathed by the battle just two weeks ago. Unfortunately, because he had hoped, as they surveyed the other homes and the damage to be repaired, that his would be among the ruined so that he wouldn’t have to feel the empty presence of his father marked everywhere inside the dim lit home.

He swallowed all the emotion up before stepping inside, and Astrid kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He didn’t even feel bashful when his arm caught her around the waist, and he pulled her close to whisper in her ear how wonderful her cooking smelled. Valka busied herself with setting the table like she hadn’t been eating with the tips of her fingers for the past twenty years. She managed to find the mead they saved for special occasions, hoping it would boost their spirits and take the chill off their skin.

But when they sat at the table, all rumblings in Hiccup’s stomach that indicated hunger ceased and he just pushed Astrid’s tender lamb stew around the plate before dropping his fork. 

“I’m just suddenly…not very hungry,” he admitted emptily.

The room stilled in silence a moment before the two women dropped their forks themselves. “I’m sorry…I should’ve thought…”

Hiccup’s hand pressed against Astrid’s on the table, stopping her and assuring her it was ok. He rose, and steered himself for the stairs. Going for a flight now would make it too easy for someone to find him. Funny how that worked these days. He tried so hard to find detours and hiding spots that were far away from the main island, but he always seemed to be found no matter how far he and Toothless ventured to be by themselves. 

Alone in his bedroom, he figured a more exclusive spot would be the rooftop, and planted his metal foot out the window first to test the slickness of the surface covered in thin icicles. He managed, and mentally bet that the two downstairs wouldn’t come looking for him—at least for half an hour.

He’d watched the sun descend about two centimeters in the sky before he heard her voice.

“Your new hiding spot isn’t very good.”

He turned his head only slightly over one shoulder to watch Astrid already with one leg over the window sill to join him.

“I figured if people find me when I’m actually trying to be hidden, they won’t when I’m not.”

She perched next to him, testing her weight on the beams and ice. “Sound reasoning, definitely.”

They sat in silence a few moments. That was there way, and he sort of liked it. That they could be that comfortable. But she spoke.

“So Valka’s leaving. Is that what’s wrong?”

She always knew when and where to twist the knife.

“No,” he answered, sounding like a whining child. He flicked a bit of ice down the beams of the roof, watching it bounce.

“I believe you,” she said dully, sarcastically.

“No, its not,” he said more firmly. “Its all of it.”

“Are you mad?”

“Of course not. I want her to…to be happy, and all of that. But its weird because she just got back here. I want to get to know her more and everything, but it still seems unnecessary in a way. Her being here, I mean. I thought she was dead for my whole life. And she just stumbles upon me? It really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe. But maybe it feels unnecessary because you won’t let yourself deserve it.”

He paused and looked over at her. It wasn’t difficult for her to ever decipher his psychobabble. At one point it had been, but she’d listened to enough of his rants by now to be able to sort out the true meaning of his words. She was amazing like that.

“You’ve really got to stop doing that,” he said, feeling like he should smile but didn’t have the strength to.

She leaned against his shoulder. “It’s a good skill to have if I’m going to keep hanging around, I think,” she said nonchalantly and proudly all at once. 

They fell into silence again, and Hiccup wondered if she could really be right. He hadn’t ever thought of himself as undeserving of anything. True, he’d never felt like he belonged anywhere, and had stopped trying to please people long ago. He just had figured he’d settle for something less, and maybe that’s where the undeserving part came in. But now, with circumstances shifting, he had to reevaluate, and it all just seemed too much to think about, even for his busy mind. Maybe he’d just have to let thing unfold themselves.

He nudged the crown of her head with his cheek. “Hey.”

She hummed in response.

“Remember that night we discovered Tailfin Island? And we stayed gone way too late.”

“Do I remember your dad and my brother almost murdering us when we got back just before dawn? Of course I do.”

“Do you remember the bonfire?”

He heard the smile in her voice. “I remember what happened around the bonfire, quite vividly, yes.”

He let himself blush and continued. “Remember how we talked about maybe getting married?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I want to do that. Tomorrow.”

She sat up and looked at him wide eyed. “Tomorrow? Hiccup, we’ve got to prepare. There’s so many other things going on right now, so much work to be done. And I’ll have to make a dress. Oh gods, a dress.” She seemed to deflate at the thought and it made him laugh and lean over to nuzzle his nose against her cheek. 

“Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. In spring. Do you want to?” He looked up at her, eyes expectant and wide like a dragon hatchlings’. 

“Of course I do,” she answered softly. “In spring.”

He bent forward just a few inches and kissed her, allowing himself to linger there for a handful of seconds. She reciprocated with a small, teasing peck. “Let’s get back inside before we catch our death out here.”

She helped him back over the ledge and into his bedroom. Dusk had already fallen, so she kissed him at the bottom of the stairs and said she should go home. Valka appeared through the backdoor after feeding Cloudjumper and Toothless their dinner.

“There’s a room upstairs for you,” he told her. “With an empty bed. I know you don’t want to stay in the downstairs bedroom, so…” He trailed off, and took a gulp of air. Why did anything concerning the mention of his father tighten his chest so much?

She nodded and touched his cheek when she passed him, ascending upstairs and leaving him to his thoughts, finally without interruption.

He plopped himself on a chair in the main room, head between his hands. He gazed at the flames in front of him, low and crackling. 

“Dad,” he said to no one. This felt ridiculous. But it could work. “Maybe…” he whispered, dropping his hands. “I’m…really at a loss here, and I don’t have any idea how to lead…I’m really uncertain about pretty much everything, except that I know I want to marry her. And you’d be happy of that.”

He paused. “Things are going to be hard. They’re going to be strange for a long time. But maybe it’ll all work out, anyways.”

He watched the flames dance in response, and leaned backwards in his chair to rest into the smooth hide that covered it.

Maybe it would work out.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hiccup?”

The flame cast odd shadows along the walls when he woke, bracing himself on his elbows, chest heaving, a slick layer of sweat over his brow and his back.

He gasped and turned away from the light on instinct, and tried to ignore the low gasp that emitted from him as his lungs tried to fill themselves.

Gentle fingers pressed along his shoulder, practiced at knowing when to touch and when not to after years with unpredictable creatures. He didn’t flinch away but drew in another breath and hung his head.

“You were shouting,” his mother said behind him. She was perched at the edge of the bed, holding the short and stubby candlestick that was the cause of the strange slanted shadows in his room. They felt softer and warmer now that he knew she wasn’t a figment of the frayed edges of a nightmare.

“I’m sorry.” He shuddered.

Her hand squeezed his shoulder and patted it lovingly.

“I was watching it happen all over again.” He slowly sat so he could just see her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t look at her. 

“I was there again…and I couldn’t move to stop it. It was him, and then it was Astrid, and him again and…”

Her fingers reached up to thread into his hair, silencing him. He looked at her completely now.

He didn’t know exactly where from within the desire came to be closer to her, but he leaned forward, his cheek pressing against her shoulder. He breathed again and found it a little easier. Her palm was flat against his shoulder blades now, and he suddenly wondered at how big her hands actually were, or how small he was. 

How small he had been when she first knew him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Hush,” she said. 

He waited several seconds, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of her. She smelled like the smoke of a fire, and some sort of sweet he couldn’t identify. He’d try to memorize it before she took her leave in only a few days, once the dragons had finished helping to rebuild the village.

He leaned away, and pressed a hand over his face, in shame, hiding himself, but maybe he could pass if off as wiping away the salt of sweat.

Sleeping had been difficult recently. It had been almost a month now, and nights like this were becoming more frequent. Never had he woken her, or caught himself shouting like she claimed he was. 

He’d jolted awake many times in the past week, remembering just the translucent fog of what had happened in his dreams, and they always seemed to be a bit different. Once he’d dreamt of a new war, a different war where their enemies had descended upon their village when it was in the midst of some grand celebration. Astrid’s figure had been next to him, in a sea foam green silk dress and had pulled the sword he had sheathed from his side to run onto the battlefield. He’d run after her into a throng of chaos, and had seen Toothless there, with narrow eyes and plasma bubbling hotly in his mouth. That night, resuming sleep had been impossible.

He groaned out loud, and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “No wonder you want to leave,” he mumbled, not aware he’d actually said it.

She stood unexpectedly, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. He expected her to leave next, when she moved for the door. But he saw the candle light shadows stop their movement along the floor when she paused.

“I assume you won’t be going back to sleep,” she said.

He looked up, hoping not to look too helpless.

She grinned widely and almost mischievously, looking a lot like Toothless when he played a joke.

“Well, then there’s only one thing do now, isn’t there?”

He was up and tugging on yesterday’s tunic as soon as she’d left the room. He didn’t bother with clean clothes, but pulled on a fur vest for good measure and met her outside where Toothless was already trampling the ground in excitement. Cloudjumper just stood proudly and erect, watching the younger dragon with curious eyes.

Hiccup had found that dragons had an irregular sleeping schedule and needed much less than humans. It changed with the seasons, but when it had only been Toothless on the island, he had noticed that food fueled the dragon much more than sleep did, and little naps throughout the day was all he needed. Toothless was always awake in the early morning, and Hiccup usually rose with the sunrise now because of his pestering for a morning ride.

Silently, they took the skies. He led the way, allowing Toothless to fly as fast as he desired to burn off the adrenaline that came from the nightmare.

It was impossible not to lose track of time up here. He never counted miles or distance unless they were planning to add to the map, he just let the Night Fury lead, breaking through early morning mist in the still-dark sky, letting it cool his face. The air was different up here. Untouched and just asking to be encountered. The idea was exciting; that no matter how far they flew, they’d never discover the entire earth, never take the same path twice, never totally reach the end.

He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and clicking down on the gear that locked Toothless’s tail.

He watched the stars overhead and remembered what someone had told him; that the stars were made of the souls of great leaders, an his father was among them. The idea was ridiculous. His father no longer existed in the way he had before; nothing physical could contain him now. He was gone and the only thing to further his memory was Hiccup himself.

Valka pulled up beside him, smiling down on him. She pointed into the distance and he sat up to watch a ‘V’ of Monstrous Nightmares ablaze in flight far ahead of them. He grinned. Underneath them, ignited like sparking, surging balls of fire, their hatchlings flew in the protection of their wings. 

The riders whooshed past them, and Hiccup let their heat warm him, lingering on the tops of his ears and his cheeks as they passed.

The sun peeked over the horizon, its light creating streaks of deep purple and pink along the water and the clouds. Hiccup smiled at reached down to scratch Toothless’s ears. He felt the rumble of appreciation beneath his fingers, and patted his friend gently. 

“Pretty cool, huh bud?” he said.

When the reached the island again, some of the villagers were already awake, and Hiccup was rounded easily into chiefly duties, feeling a twinge of guilt if he would’ve refused his help. At least for now.

-O-O-O-

“So I’m having nightmares now, apparently,” he said, dunking the large iron brush back into the water bucket. Relieved, Toothless bounded away from his monthly toothbrushing, pawing at the smooth flat rocks of the stable floor, before lighting them and curling up. Stormfly, however, nudged Astrid with her jaw, encouraging her to continue the grooming. Astrid kept scrubbing her dragon’s already shining teeth.

“Can’t be a good thing,” the blonde said.

“Are you kidding? It’s the best. It’s the most excitement I get all week,” he groaned.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know what I can do. Deal with it I guess.”

Satisfied, Stormfly backed away, and went to where her friend lay to show off her new shining spiked fangs.

Astrid sighed and suddenly looked serious. Her sleeves were soaked with water and her bangs were damp. He reached up to push them behind her ear, tugging on the little braid she had made around the top of her head today.

“I’m worried about you,” she said.

He tried to test and see if he could unknot the strand of cord around the end of her braid, but she had double-knotted it—to prevent his habit, not unlikely.

“Sorry,” he said because he didn’t know what else to say.

She put her hands on his shoulders, and he flicked his thumb through the fray of hairs tied off by the knotted cord.

“I’m making a sword…” he said. “To give to your brother.”

She caught on. He was referring to the bride price he was expected to give to her family, by tradition. Though her parents were long dead, Bear was their heir and her only surviving family.

“A shield to, maybe an axe if I can manage it…”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” she stopped him. “It isn’t important. What’s important is making sure you’re alright.”

“What’s going to make me ‘alright’ is having the security of a stubborn, hard-headed Viking woman with brute strength and killer good looks by my side.”

She rolled her eyes. “You really are ridiculous.” She planted her palms on his cheeks and yanked him down the few inches towards her for a kiss. He was boggled a moment and smiled against her. 

“Get a room,” Ruff begged at the entrance of the stable, grimacing.

-O-O-O-

He had become fond of nighttime flights to ease his mind.

His mother had left the morning of another episode. The dream with Astrid in the green dress again. And this time, Toothless had nudged him awake, nuzzling his snout into his best friend’s cheek for comfort while he tried to catch his breath.

Now they sat side by side on a cliff’s edge, in the darkness of midnight. He was leaned against Toothless’s side, his legs dangling over the edge.

He rolled his head against the dragon’s scales to get his attention. “I’m glad I have you, bud.”

Toothless purred in understanding.

“I don’t think I’m worried anymore about this chief thing; I’ve handled it pretty good so far, I think.” He sounded unconfident and sleepy, but Toothless shifted under him, approving. 

He had taken over the responsabilities easily, and he knew he had the trust and support of the people behind him. The entire village had felt the blow of Stoick’s death, and understood that Hiccup felt it most. He knew he could be a leader. The past five years had proved to him that he had the ability to, but there was always the fear of executing an idea, of the village council who was his only help in learning how not to do this or that, and the impossibly large seat he could never fill among them. 

Then there was the fifteen year reign of Hiccup the Horrendous that the village seemed to have grace for, but Hiccup remembered during every decision he was faced with.

At the very least, he would have to grow into all of this, and he had no fear of having to do that alone.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him. But that’s how it should be, I guess. I’ve never lost anyone. Not even my mom.”

He sighed. At least not until this week. She’d always just been gone, and he hadn’t ever really questioned her supposed death or wanted to. It had become part of a bond for Astrid, he thought, to assume that both of their mothers had been killed in a dragon raid. But his had been gone since before his memories would recall, and so he had never wanted her or been able to miss her. And now, knowing who she was and watching her intrinsic bond with the dragons, he did miss her. He missed her knowledge and her advice that she hadn’t had the time to give. 

She would’ve been great at leading the training school. He would’ve approved her position in no time, but she needed to be free and with her own family, as they had come to consider her. He could learn to be happy for that. And she had promised to visit for their wedding, and hoped to return months later to a round-bellied, rosy-faced Astrid—upon which suggestion Astrid had grimaced.

His thoughts were broken when he spotted a familiar formation of sparks pass over him. The Monstroous Nightmares kept tight, all lit to wing to tip. They were low enough for Hiccup to feel the heat and hear the babies rumbling. Hard to see, but still visible at the edges of the light they gave off, was a dragon of a different species. A Timberjack. He identified its unique wings easily.

He gasped and reached for Toothless, who was stiff and poised behind him for attack of flight, whichever came first. Hiccup watched them pass over Berk and away again, and in the illumination of the retreating flock, he saw the form of a rider on the Timberjack’s lean body.

“This could be bad.”


End file.
